


follow

by stardustgirl



Series: shadow in the valley [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (it isn’t all angst tho), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Angst, Bittersweet, Experimental Style, Ezra Bridger Has PTSD, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Ezra Bridger is Raised By Wolves, Feelstember, Feelstember 2020, Fluff, Js, Magic, Magic-Users, Prompt Fill, Vignettes, Wolf Pack, Wolves, not a whole lot but it’s there, this isn’t related to any of my previous aus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Ezra, magic, and names.(Alternate prompt fill for “Follow” for Feelstember.)
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus
Series: shadow in the valley [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919329
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Feelstember 2020





	follow

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Arm Trauma, Referenced Fire

**i.**

He never asked for this.

He never asked for the land, for the ability to walk it without anyone stopping him.

Yes, he likes being able to do. Yes, he wouldn’t say no if someone asked him if he’d give it up.

But he never asked for this.

* * *

**ii.**

Ezra is a Bridger.

He has been one since The Fire, and he is still figuring out what being one even _means._ He knows it has something to do with the way the whales follow him, the way cats always seem to twine about his feet and baby birds don’t seem bothered by his presence.

He runs, sometimes, just to see if they’ll follow, if they’ll keep up.

They always do.

However, whales and cats and birds aren’t the only things that follow him.

Ezra is a Bridger, and that is the most dangerous thing to be in this world.

* * *

**iii.**

He’s seen magic in the land around him since he was a boy, and he’s understood that magic is Evil and Bright and Horrible since he was a boy, too.

Ezra understands that magic is the reason for kings who rule rusted cities from shining thrones, for people practically beaten down to dust for crying sins to the sky, for The Fire that took everything from him.

Magic is the reason their world has been turned to stone, and Ezra will have none of it.

* * *

**iv.**

Magic is the reason he is a Bridger.

Ezra resolutely ignores this fact.

He focuses, instead, on those who follow, on the animals always in his footsteps, on the spirits that linger in the forests, whispering _salvation salvation salvation from the fires of mortals,_ and Ezra embraces the role of Bridger and ignores the caustic sting of magic that comes with it.

* * *

**v.**

Ezra hides from the white-clad soldiers from the capital, stays away from the black and white straight lines of The Empire and goes, instead, to the nuances of false shadows and sun-dappled leaves.

He finds others, both spirit and animal, there, too, hiding from the other world he’s responsible— _he was born in—_ for.

* * *

**vi.**

It is the Wolf-mother who teaches him magic, first.

She finds him pulling a pup out of the water one day, and approaches slowly, hesitant to sniff him before remarking that he does _not smell like magic._

He shifts uncomfortably, explains he doesn’t use it, which would explain that.

She huffs, unconvinced, and her tail twitches. _A Bridger without magic, yet you still try to help. Why?_

He doesn’t have an answer for her.

Wolf-mother’s ear twitches, and she tells him that she _will help teach it._

* * *

**vii.**

Ezra runs with Wolf-mother, runs with her pups, and begins to forget what it means to be human, to be mortal, to be a true Bridger.

Wolf-mother finds out, though. She always does.

She approaches him with bristled fur and hackles raised as he reaches to pet one of her pups, snarling at him to leave. _You have learned all I can teach you of magic and the world,_ she says, teeth glinting sharply in the half-light. _You’re not the first mortal I’ve taught magic to, and you won’t be the last. But I have nothing left to teach you if you won’t learn to use the other side of the valley for your hunt as well._

This is simply how Wolf-mother is, he knows; all riddles and metaphors and more like Fox-sibling and _their_ children, more like mortals, than like her own pups.

Ezra, however, nods, and leaves to return to the other world he holds responsibility— _the one he was born in—_ for.

* * *

**viii.**

He returns to the outskirts of the mortal towns, lingering in the shadows and thickets of the woods. He watches the roads from the ditches beside them, stays away from the wagons and carts that rumble past.

He begins to relearn what being mortal is.

* * *

**ix.**

He’s walking on the road late one morning, letting the breeze remind him of what it was like to run with Wolf-mother in the forests, when a carriage comes up behind him, the horses flat-out sprinting. They try to warn him with their sharp whinnies and squeals, but by the time he translates them into _stay away stay away get out of the way_ their hooves are upon him, the wheels pinning his arm between pain and dust, and as quickly as it comes it is gone.

Ezra crawls to the side of the road, making it most of the way into the ditch before he collapses and lets darkness, cool and comfortable, encircle him and draw him back to her fold.

* * *

**x.**

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, clinging to the darkness like Spider-sister’s children cling to her back. But eventually, the darkness lets him go, whispers _sorry_ as she retreats and leaves him to the mercy of her brightest brother.

However, the sun is blocked by a mortal, his features shadowed by the light’s retreat. He reaches a hand out toward Ezra, and he accepts warily, though releases it the minute he can sit up on his own.

The mortal kneels in front of him, and Ezra can make out dark brows knitted together and hair pulled back tightly. His arm begins to throb.

“You okay?”

The words sound foreign, though Ezra knows he used to be able to speak them as easily as he could breathe. He swallows, hard, and notices the dust clogging his lungs. He tries to speak, to articulate that he’s fine and doesn’t need help from anyone, much less a mortal.

But the words don’t come out.

“It’s okay, kid. I got you,” he says, reaching a hand to Ezra. He shrinks away from the mortal, remembering the way the carriage driver had not stopped.

“Do you not know this language? Is there another one you know?”

He still can’t speak, the words trapped in his throat like moths in Spider-sister’s web. Instead, he nods hesitantly.

The man gestures to himself. “I’m going to help you.” He points to Ezra’s arm, the mangled thing that it is, and says, “I’m going to take you to someone who can help you with that. Okay?”

Hesitantly, Ezra nods. He is a Bridger. Wolf-mother taught him how to use magic to defend both of the worlds he is responsible for, and how to defend himself with tooth and claw and magic. He doesn’t have any reason to fear mortals.

His arm says otherwise, but he still rises, unsteady, and allows the mortal to help him stagger out of the ditch and away from the comfort of the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> will i continue this? uhhhh Who Knows


End file.
